


Phantom Thread

by KenRik



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Character Development, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Heartbreak, Humor, Lannister siblings unite, Matchmaking, Modern AU, Parallels With Canon, Romance, and pays dearly for it, cersei is still a bitch, depth of character, from geek to sheek, jaime lannister unwittingly plays cupid, kingslayer, love isn't love until it hurts, tyrion is still tyrion, what it would be like had the lannister siblings got along, yet another makeover story, zero incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-07-12 15:21:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15997982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KenRik/pseuds/KenRik
Summary: Brienne is the ugly wench in search of love. And Jaime is the fool who thinks he could very well make it happen, give her her happily ever after - as her overbearing matchmaker. Jaime/Brienne





	1. Chapter 1

Jaime thinks the office awfully cramped for someone he paid considerably well. His personal accountant, an odd lady with a mess of thick bushy ebony hair, always donning the most hideous garbs of random colorful pieces, wearing outrageous earpieces that made her ears sag, she was a ghastly creature, to be certain. But she had a surprising wit about her, cunning to a fault; that, while not the most conventional sort, he entrusted her with his business. The shrewd devil had a knack for the market, she invested well and traded quickly. She managed quite a number of small businesses herself. He was in one of her many little offices scattered throughout the metro, waiting for her for about; his cat-green eyes glance at the twisted framed clock overhead - nearly thirty minutes. 

Looking around the place, he could only fathom what the woman ran here. She had a single receptionist waiting outside. That was all there was to this proprietorship of hers. That and, well, frames with pictures of widely-grinning couples. In fact, many many pictures of painful-to-look-at grinning couples were hung up even on the walls. 

"Ah." He finally realizes, his lips quirking at the thought that - heavens, let it stay a ridiculous notion - this was a damned matchmaking service business. His eccentric business partner was good with money, he'd give her that. But, judging from her character, she knew squat about what she took on - that absurd notion of soulmates and true love. 

It was then that the door to the small office swings open with a ring of a bell. Turning, certain that his accountant had just walked in, Jaime starts to smirk and runs a hand through his luscious blonde hair, about to comment on the old hag's unlikely endeavor, when his gaze was met by the most stunned expression he's seen of late, from the most ridiculously enormous she-man he's ever set eyes on; pale, freckled, and red all together. He himself was quite taken aback by the apparition before him. 

The tall beast coughed, her pale cheeks tinted pink, slouched as she took a step into the room. The door closed in a muted click behind her. "I'm Brienne Tarth," She managed to utter in a choke. "I have an appointment with you."

Jaime sat up almost instantly, trying to gather his wits back about him. "Pardon?" 

"Eurodate -" The thickly built woman repeated, herself uncertain. Both of them seemed far outside their comfort zone. "The-" She coughs to her hand yet again in discomfort, embarrassment, "-matchmaking service?" 

Jaime's face contorts into the most ridiculous blend of fascination, disbelief, and humor. "You?" He blurts, almost breaking in laughter. But, he takes her in, he does see the sense in it, he thinks with a smirk on his handsome face - in her needing the help of a matchmaker. Her tense expression, her stiff posture, her firm, steady gaze - sobers him. Her cool sapphire eyes burning amid her looks, her ghastly fashion sense. _The life of the lovelorn must be a difficult one._

Cautiously, she approached him, on the desk he was situated on, never once breaking eye contact; her eyes unsettling him. "Well?"

Jaime pursed his lips, studying her form with a critic's eye. It wasn't impossible - setting-up this wench with some man.

"...It's not like I need to be in a relationship." She averts her eyes, Jaime obviously sensing the lie in her words. "This is the last thing I should be doing -" She continues, lamely to the man's unforgiving ears. "But, it does get lonely - coming home to an empty apartment."

"It's not impossible," Jaime finally tells her. "You're going home to some bloke." His tone was so confident, so certain, that it brought a light to the wench's outstandingly brilliant sapphire eyes. 

"So, you'll help me? Eurodate, I mean." 

Jaime took a thoughtful pause, weighing his options - or rather, the lack thereof. He had no business dipping into the affairs of his accountant's personal accounts. But, he looks across the desk between him and the office's prospective client. The woman sat tall, in silent anticipation. The hopeless and pitifully helpless ogre of a woman. The She-Man of Soho, London. The title winner of the Most Atrocious.

He's seen how his accountant dealt with people - mere vessels of money they were, as he recalled the hag saying. There was no moral dilemma here, Jaime thought as he pursed his lips. It was clear what he had to do. And, it just may be, he mused, his lips quirking to an excited smirk; Christmas came early for the sorry wench in front of him. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Siniksik ko lang ito sa schedule ko. Kasi, sa wakas, may isang buong araw ako mag-aral - siyempre, isisiksik ko ang hindi dapat gawin. Haha.... deds.

It was simple really, hacking into his accountant's cloud. With a coded e-mail sent to a friend in Intelligence (Jaime, being the well-connected Lannister boy that he is), he gained direct access into the old hag's desktop - making all her information available to him, one of which was specifically important - that account of the ever hopeless Brienne Tarth's. 

Her account information, as he had expected, was droll to say the least. And, he chuckled, reading that she was employed with G4S. _Of course she was_ , he thought with a palm over his grin, the light from his laptop reflecting in his eager eyes. His room was dark, lit only by the moonlight seeping through the drapes of his home. The space beside him, on his bed, empty and cold, as its been for sometime now. 

With a couple of searches later, he set his laptop on the space beside him, the face of some bloke displayed on its screen. Someone he decided - was perfect for his unassuming client. He slept that early morning with the helpful aid of alcohol, thinking decidedly - he could do no wrong.

.

  
Phantom Thread  
Chapter Two

.

When he sees her, even amid the sunglasses he wore, he could make out how ghastly pale Brienne was. Compared to Jaime, who had just strolled in, gingerly sipping his drink of lemon water, the wench was fidgeting where she stood and was as stiff as a pillar. The sight made Jaime purse his lips, thinking to himself he'll never meet anyone who'll stand out more from all the beauty in Sloane Street than Brienne. "You look like you've been having a lovely morning." His chipper tone and gait irked her.

"Why are we here?" Brienne demanded quickly, embarrassed and rather annoyed by Jaime's high spirits.

The man looks around, thinking nothing could be more obvious. "Clothes-shopping." He tells her, looking around for something then starts walking towards a boutique. 

"And you're over half an hour late." Brienne grumbles after him.

"I honestly thought you'd start without me." Jaime says without the slightest remorse. Before Brienne could say anymore, the man enters a shop and is greeted warmly and with distinct familiarity. With a simple beckoning raise of a hand, an assistant approaches them - a petite, pretty fellow, who sweetly smiles. 

"Mr. Lannister, we're delighted to have you back so soon. And with the company of a rare beauty." The clean, sharp-looking bloke said fully, perfectly, without the slightest touch of sarcasm in his tone, meeting Brienne's cautious gaze with his bright unwavering one. 

"I don't know about beauty," Jaime looks at Brienne. Then, he remarks in correction, earning a raised brow from the wench and a look of intrigue from the clerk. "She's more of a brute to be certain." He says so frankly, so unabashed, that he instantly ruins the well-tamed facade of the clerk by making the young chipper burst in laughter - who immediately tries (and fails) to hide said laughter behind a hand. Brienne was straight-faced and far from amused. "We're here hoping you could change that." Jaime grins amid himself. 

The clerk, Harry was his name, nodded, his laugh dying down. With a grin plastered on his rosy face, he ushers them in and asks, "Where should we begin?" 

.

"That looks good." Jaime says about the dress Harry held before them. His sister had a few pieces similar to it. 

"That also looks good." He then comments on another. Then another. After which, a pile of clothes have been set aside for the stiff and utterly embarrassed Brienne to try on. Before she left for the fitting room, Jaime had reassured her - "All the clothes are wonderful. And Harry's a professional stylist. You should relax." 

Brienne just bit her lip, unmoved and skeptical. Still, she let the young man dress her like his own barbie doll, which Harry certainly owned, rather, had stolen from his sister when he was nine years old and was given a race car set. 

After wearing the first set, it took every ounce of courage for Brienne to step outside the changing room. That and a lengthy, irked urging from Jaime who had been pacing outside her door. "It's been ages, wench." He tells her with a bite in his tone. 

Beside him, Harry stood uneasily, himself unsure of outcome. It had been his first time seeing a woman with Brienne's measurements. This, for anyone really, was uncharted territory. He certainly didn't want to lose Jaime Lannister's patronage because of this beast he set on them. _Please look good._ He silently prayed, crossing his fingers behind his back. 

Then, Brienne steps out in her new attire. 

And, she's been in front of them, for what feels like a while. Still, both men were silent. "What is it?" She demands from both of them, cheeks falling flushed. 

Jaime only purses his lips, still looking at her intently. Harry, honestly, didn't know where to begin.

"Is it bad?" Brienned flusters. Then, when the two still wouldn't speak up, she barked, horribly mortified. "Well, say something!" 

"Don't get your panties in a twist." came Jaime's unhelpful words of reassurance. "It's not bad. It's - different."

"What do you mean - different?" 

"I would say it's an acquired taste." Harry adds, earning an agreeing nod from Jaime. 

"Why don't you try another." 

"I'm not trying another piece of clothing until you tell me what it is. For heaven's sake, you two look like you've been possessed!" 

Jaime and Harry exchange looks. "It just - looks wrong." 

"What?" 

"Well, you see here," Harry approaches her and gestures to her arms. "Your shoulders a bulky, very masculine in this dress. And, your legs, your calves, hm. - it's just, may be a longer dress?" 

"Just try on the next thing." Jaime tells her. "Don't worry." 

Brienne narrows her eyes at them before returning to the changing room. Outside, she could hear Jaime and Harry's incoherent chatter. 

"We'll need more help." 

Harry nods, himself serious. "I'll call Kira." 

.

"Let's try this from storage." Monroe said (the third person that came to the party's rescue), holding up the nth piece of the store. Both Brienne and Harry were seated on the same couch, both deflated. Jaime had gone out an hour ago after Brienne's nth change of clothes - saying this was too much of a burden, that he needed a break, that he didn't think this could be that impossible, that dresses were supposed to flatter every woman, - basically, he quit halfway and had to meet his lunch reservation with his brother and the latter's fiancee. Before leaving, however, he gave the crew strict instructions to find her a new wardrobe. 

"I apologize for all this." Brienne tells Harry. The latter only shakes his head and smiles. 

"It's my pleasure. Everyone one deserves to feel beautiful." 

Brienne gives him a tired smile before standing and taking the dress to the changing room. When she wears the dress, she instantly brightens up and thinks that this fits her differently - fits her better. 

"Finally!" Harry leapt to his feet, earning a shy smile from Brienne. 

"When choosing a dress," Monroe smiled, explaining, "Take notes Harry - take into consideration your assets. That's what you want to highlight. Your long neck, your beautiful waist, your incredible height. This dress just does that." 

Brienne couldn't stop looking at herself. 

"I'll find you a more casual attire, come on Harry." Monroe gestures for Harry to follow the veteran stylist. And, when they're out of Brienne's earshot, the former says snidely, "This is what you get for always wanting to dress up those fashion models." 

Harry only purses his lips defiantly.

.

When Jaime sees her all made up, he is surprised, certainly, by her new look and compliments her, "You almost look like a woman." 

Beside him, Harry blushes, hiding his laughter, swatting a hand at Jaime. "Come on, Mr. Lannister, she looks absolutely delightful." 

Jaime turns to the man with a smirk. "Thank you for the hard work as always." He tells Harry, Kira, Stephan, Angelo and Monroe. 

"How are we paying today," Monroe smiles, the items all packaged neatly. 

Jaime looks at Brienne, nodding. Then, Brienne looks back at Jaime. Her sapphire eyes shinning, her face radiating; for once, hopeful. Still, Jaime raises a brow at her. And like clockwork, Brienne suddenly nods, only now realizing. Quickly, she follows Monroe to the check out counter, taking out her wallet. "How much do I owe?" 

"It'll be just 3140." Monroe smiles. And just like that, the entire universe came to a sudden halt. 

.

"I'm sorry." Brienne said for the nth time, following behind Jaime. 

Jaime just walked in front of her, acting as if he didn't hear her - which he most certainly did. 

"There were no price tags. How could I have known five items would cost me an arm and a leg?" 

Still, Jaime wouldn't acknowledge her presence. 

"I shouldn't even be explaining myself to you," Brienne spluttered, still red in the face. "It is my money." 

Jaime suddenly paused from his step, pointing a heated finger at her, hissing lowly. "All my life -"

Brienne could barely hear him. 

"I've been shopping in Salvatore's - all my life." 

Brienne didn't understand where he was leading to. 

"How could you not have known how much those clothes were?" He shoots her a look of remorse, of utter and complete betrayal.

Brienne flushes, and remarks in her defense, "Well, I-I've never been!" 

Jaime lost all color in his tan face. "How could you - a woman - not know Salvatore Ferragamo?" He cried, almost with a pitch on his voice, drowning in absolute disbelief. 

"I just told you -" She's all red. "I've never been! I've never even stepped a foot in this street my entire life!" 

"That's absolute rubbish." Jaime calls bullshit. "Whatever." He runs a hand through his hair, exasperated, so exhausted by her, by this silly -should have been simple- thing he's took on. He's never been so humiliated in his entire life. He never even knew there was such a thing as secondhand humiliation! "At least you managed to purchase that piece and look half decent for tonight." 

"-excuse me?" Brienne couldn't believe what she just heard. "What did you say?" 

"Oh, yes." Jaime mumbles, just now remembering. "I forgot to tell you. You've a date tonight." 

Brienne almost burst then and there. "You got me a date." 

"Yes, yes, you're thankful, I know." 

"I am most certainly not." The wench bit at him so spitefully, so venomously, that Jaime is at an absolute lost as to her reaction. 

"What now?" 

"I-I'm not ready!" 

Jaime only rolled his eyes. "Of course you are. It's just a bloody date. You bought your bloody clothes. What more is there?" 

"It isn't _just_ a date- not to me!" 

Jaime's brows furrowed, irked. "Why does every _bloody_ thing have to mean something to you?" 

"It just does!" 

"Calm down, wench." 

"I beg your pardon, sir." Brienne snapped. 

"The bloke's a good enough gent. I'll be with you either way if that's any consolation." 

Brienne bit at him. "It is most certainly not." 

"I wonder -" Jaime mused to himself. "If we'll ever get along." 

Brienne's brows furrowed even deeper. "-Most -certainly - not." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be continued.


	3. Chapter 3

Why was it, Jaime thinks when Brienne meets his gaze from a distance - he was, once again, a few minutes tardy to their appointment - that every time he was around, Brienne's face would immediately sour up like some dried fruit? She was already an eyesore to begin with. The least she could do was not make it worse. What a chore it's been, he sighs, getting her a love life. Charity sure was hard work.

"You get wrinkles faster that way." He comments, passing by her and continuing into the restaurant's door behind her. Brienne's face instantly darkens, following behind the devil of a man with the angelic good looks. That contradiction in character and figure was enough to make her blood boil.

On their table, Jaime was hunched forward, his hands in a united gesture of this and that as he - for the nth time that day - coached Brienne on how to be a swell dinner companion. Then, unable to take her sour face any longer, tells her, "You do know how to smile, don't you?" 

Brienne's eye twitched. 

"Your mum must have at least taught you that much, right?" His voice dripped with sarcasm, it was getting more difficult for Brienne to keep civil. 

"Are you not yet leaving?" She reminds him rather than asks.

Jaime was genuinely perplexed by her question. With a knot in his well-cropped brows, he smirks, "This may very well be the last time we meet each other." He tells her with the confidence that's always stunned Brienne, basically saying that he's found her soulmate _that easily_. "You better make the most of our time together." He laughs heartily, making Brienne grimace in her seat."

.

Phantom Thread  
Chapter Three

.

Jaime was already on his feet the instant he saw Daliso through the restaurant's glass doors. "It's great to finally meet you." He greets the man equal in height (Jaime was a good 6'2'') with a firm handshake and a toothy smile. The newcomer was wearing a simple office attire, holding his briefcase in a hand.

Daliso only grins back and returns the gesture. "It's good to be here." His gaze turns to Brienne, who looked on with distance, detachment; unable to keep her guard down, skeptical of Jaime's choice - rather, of any man's 'interest' in her. Still, her coldness didn't dissuade Daliso's friendly disposition. "And you must be Lady Brienne." 

"Good evening." She greeted stiffly, standing from her seat as she did. The woman was both rigid and robotic, making Jaime mentally slap his head in frustration, distinctly recalling the number of times he told her to relax on the date. Thankfully, Daliso found her evident awkwardness quite endearing and even gave a hearty laugh himself. "You were certainly not lying about your height in your profile." He notes, still with that smile ghosting his lips. "I was certain you must have made some exaggeration." 

"As you see," Brienne, with her brows knit together, didn't understand what he found funny. "I did not." 

Jaime pats his ward's shoulder. And, with a smirk, leans to tell her simply - "He's making conversation." 

Brienne turns to him with the same perplexed expression. "Ah." Her eyes narrows in cautiousness, distrust, judgment. She couldn't believe anyone could be so friendly, based on past experience.

"I guess," Jaime points to the door. "I'll be off then. Have fun, kids." He grins cheekily, making Brienne flush in humilation.

Daliso grinned. And the second he pulled out a seat for himself, Jaime stole a moment to pat Brienne's shoulder; "Don't worry." the aspiring matchmaker whispers to Brienne as he walked passed her. "I'll just be a few tables away." He winks at her; utterly ignorant to the simple fact that Brienne never wanted him around in the first place. 

.

The date - it was not going well. And Jaime was a stone throw away from screaming into his hands a few tables behind the couple. Damn wench had zero socializing skills! 

Quick to act, Jaime jumped on the first chance he gets; when Brienne stood from the table. He cornered her as she was walking to the washroom, earning a bitter glare from the woman. How she was still in a horrid mood - he had no idea. She looked good tonight. She was on a date. And she had the support of the best matchmaker in town! (supposedly!) 

Before he could berate her for her cold attitude, Brienne was first to say - "This date is a disaster!" She hisses to him in blame.

Taken aback, Jaime mirrors the glare in her eyes, himself defensive. "If anything's a disaster - it's you!" 

Brienne forced a laugh, expecting no less from her hateful counsel. "Of course, you'd blame me!"

"I could feel your judgmental look five tables over!" 

"Honestly," She couldn't believe him. "Did you even consider my preference when choosing this man?!" Jaime's eyes narrowed. "We have absolutely nothing in common!" 

Jaime's lips sour, not really remembering what criteria he had used to choose her date - in fact, he had no idea what algorithm ran through his accountant's system.

"It was my tastes you had to take into account. Yet - You set me up with a man I have nothing in common with." By this point, the pair was already arguing to the back of the restaurant, by the bustling kitchen doors. 

"You're being irrational." Jaime's brows start to furrow. It was ridiculous how she had the gall to blame him for how he date's going. 

"Really," Brienne challenged. "Am I, _really_ , asking for too much?"

"Yes!" Jaime cries. "When you factor in the fact that no one wants you, it's pretty obvious who we're left with, isn't it?!" When Brienne says nothing, he doesn't notice the embarrassment that struck her face, the pain that flashed in her eyes; and simply goes on to tell her. "Someone like you can't afford to be picky. Love connections barely happen for normal people - what more for someone like you?" 

Their argument dies down. And a pregnant silence fills the air around them before Brienne nods stiffly and says, "I see." Jaime almost smiles, thinking he's only doing right by her, by the wench before him. "Excuse me." The woman coughs, gesturing to the washroom. 

Jaime steps aside to give her room and returns to his table, believing all things were settled between them. Inside the washroom, Brienne locks the door behind her and lets out a heavy breath, leaning over the sink, trying not to despise the person looking back at her in the mirror. 

She doesn't cry even though she feels worse than shit. She was strong in every aspect. She was her father's daughter. Proud of who she is, of what she's achieved. 

Again, she released a trembling breath. The man who she'd love, and who would love her in return - her father, her mother, told her over and over again until she herself started to believe it - would come eventually. No matter what the world thought of her - no matter what people say - she believed she too could fall in love without having to settle. That man she left in her table, she was certain - was not who she's been waiting for. She was honest enough to accept that. She's lasted twenty-seven years single. What more were a few days, a month, a year? 

Collecting her belongings, patting powder over her cheeks wet from the few tears she couldn't hold back, she leaves the washroom. Unwavering, she approaches the table she shared with a stranger forced upon her by another sketchy stranger. And, with a smile, tells her surprised date, "Thank you for the evening." And she places a couple of bills on the table. 

Daliso gets up to his feet, shocked as he watched her turn to leave. "Wait." He followed her, reaching out to stop her. Right outside the restaurant door, he had to ask, "What's the matter? Did anything happen?" 

Brienne had to keep herself from laughing, thinking this man was so obviously forcing himself to look sensible. "There's just nothing here, is there?" A grin on her face. "It's that simple." 

"How can you say that?" Her date is perplexed. "Granted," He scratched his head. "I'm not the best at conversation; I assure you - whatever it is, it's not my fault." 

"I never said it was." Brienne explains. "I just don't want to waste anymore of your time - nor mine." 

"Listen," Daliso grabs her hand when she attempts to leave yet again. "It's your matchmaker that made things between us difficult." Brienne follows him turn to the silhouette discretely watching them. "You're right, we shouldn't force things tonight. But," He gently releases his hold on Brienne's hand. "Can we try again. We have to give it a real shot - at least. Right?" He starts to smile, dashing, charming.

Brienne doesn't know how to take it. His gentle tone. His sincere gaze. It was true though, her discomfort was rooted in Jaime's presence, by his words, by him. Looking down, she realizes Daliso was right to some degree. "All right." She faces him. "I don't mind trying again." 

The shine in Daliso's eyes was unsettling. She has never held anyone's attention as strongly as she had now. She had no idea what to do about it, how to reciprocate it. 

"Then, I'll see you soon?" 

Brienne for once forgets the shadow hovering close by and only sees the charming man in front of her And, with a nod, says, "All right." 

.

It is two weeks later when Jaime receives his "fees" from Brienne. After the night of the set-up, he saw her have a serious chat with Daliso before the couple parted ways. Quickly, he chased after Brienne, asking what had happened. 

"Wait, wait-" He huffed, stopping when he caught up to her. "What was that?" 

Brienne only looked sideways before crossing the street with Jaime in tow. 

"Hey," Jaime grabs her shoulder, frustrated by the woman's silence. "What's the matter with you?" 

The woman, who he so lovingly calls a wench, repeatedly reminding her who she was and how she looked, finally stopped and turned back to give him the most hateful scowl she could muster. "Stop it." She bites at him. "From the moment I stepped into your office, you have been unforgiving, blatant in showing me what you thought of me. I-" She laughs at the surprised expression on Jaime's face. "I will no longer be seeking your counsel." And, pulling his hand off her shoulder, bids him, "Good night, sir." 

Following that incident, there has been no contact between them. And, two weeks later, he receives the amount she's wired to him for two weeks of his service. Rather, she wired the money to the office of his accountant - who later mentioned it to him, when she asked him whether he knew one Brienne Tarth. That apparently, unknown to the crazy hag - Brienne claimed her office successfully matched her with a man named Daliso Ejiofor. That, regardless of the methods her office employed, it did gain results. 

Jaime only looks at the picture of a happily grinning Brienne in the arms of the man who had been merely an image in a screen. Maybe, amid the bitterness in his chest, the remorse he felt from how his unlikely relationship with Brienne ended, he did right by her. 

It felt odd how he felt odd, when none of it should matter to him - a mere transient, an unlucky fool who was bored enough to force himself into the lives of absolute strangers. He was happy for her, he supposed. After all, what else could he be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued.


	4. Chapter 4

He doesn't count the days its been since he last spoke to Brienne. He rarely thinks of her. It was only during times like these, when he would have to sit and wait, that he'd look back at their short time together and wonder - whether it was really enough, what he's done for her? Was that it - the love she wanted? She had seemed adamant against it, against the man he paired her with. For what she was, the woman was a proud one. 

"Jaime," The Corporate Secretary steps out the board room and calls him in. "We're ready for you." 

Jaime nods, stands, and straightens his suit. Behind the door sat the entire board of the group of companies his father ran. Inside, he'd meet the critical eyes of the father he's disappointed, having chosen to enlist in the army instead of entering the family business. Inside, he'd meet his sister who gladly took on the role he had forgone. Inside, he would not lose himself to their bargains and his father's deathly cold stare. 

.

Phantom Thread  
Chapter Four

.

"I told you, you shouldn't have gone." Tyrion tells him for the nth time that night, after his nth glass of wine. Simple ale was never good enough for his brother's exquisite tastes - a true Lannister he was. 

"Saying it over- and over- and over again," Jaime leans in over their booth, "Will not change the fact I did." 

"Have my gold!" Tyrion waves his drink overhead, "Have my lands! Have my everything! Cries dear father day in and and day out!" He laughs, earning a grimace from his older brother brooding. 

"That is not funny." Jaime tells his dryly, eyeing his drink, hoping it held the answers to the not so simple question of: what do I do with my life, now?

Suddenly, Tyrion jumps from his seat, "Finally!" He exclaims, embracing two new arrivals to their drinking booth. Jaime looks over his shoulder, a lopsided smile hanging on his lips. _What an interesting group his brother's made for himself._ "This," Tyrion pats the back of the tall man with a thin build, black hair falling over his eyes, and a wolfish smile. "is Bronn. And this," He turns to slap the ass of the red-faced, green-looking, naive stout bloke to his right, "is the guy I've been telling you about -" 

A wry smile forms on Jaime's lips. "The young Casanova." He raises his glass to the young man, Podrick Payne.

"No, no no." Tyrion starts to grin to himself, shaking his head, and wagging a finger to his very much misinformed brother. "Our friend Podrick here, is _the_ woman fucker." 

"Ah." Jaime raises his chin, giving a skeptical nod; eyes gauging the shy Podrick who couldn't even meet his gaze. "Of course." He didn't sound convinced nor convincing. This makes Bronn chuckle, placing a strong hand on a good portion of Podrick's back and leading him to take a seat. At the same time, Jaime steps out. "I'll get the next round." He sways as he stood, the alcohol getting to him.

.

"Three beers and," Jaime, eyes glassy, smirks. "A glass of your cheapest wine." He is a little tipsy, leaning against the bar, mashed up against the many other patrons of the pub. Head dipping, he looks to his side lazily when he recognizes a familiar face a few stools over. "Hey," He calls out amid himself, surprising those within hearing range. The loud music, the chatter, drowned out Jaime's voice. And in the next instant, his attention is called by the bartender. 

.

Jaime's senses were alive. He's become more cautious of his drinking, of his surroundings. It was senseless, how he was keeping an eye our for a certain wench just because he caught a drunken glimpse of a man who looked very much like her lover. In the background, he could hear Tyrion's deeply engaged voice, smooth and serious, asking the young Podrick how he was able to bed a foursome the other night. 

Then, like a quick prick to the finger, his green eyes widening in recognition - he finds Daliso as clearly as his vision could, in a most indelicate position.

His group was a whole dance floor away - but the next thing Jaime knew, he had crossed the sea of bargoers, grabbed onto the collar of a confused then horrified Daliso, and punched the daylights out of him. In the midst of his drunken stupor, Jaime could only see one image with clarity - the wide, naive gaze of Brienne Tarth. 

"What the fuck?!" Daliso cried, touching the side of his face, blood running down his nose, dripping onto his palms. 

Jaime couldn't think straight. "Are you touched in the head?!" He huffed, out of breath, lightheaded; leaning down face to face with the bleeding man. "You're with Brienne!" 

Daliso couldn't believe his ears. "Brienne?!" His face stung like hell. "You hit me because of that ugly hag?!" 

"What-" Jaime's brows creased - himself confused.

"Are you bloody mental?!" Daliso bellowed.

"You had your fucking tongue down another woman's throat." Jaime was red in the face. "What is fucking wrong with you?"

"What about you?! Did you really expect any man to be with that hideous ogre?" He tries to stand up. "It's her damn sapphires, you wanker! Her family's sapphires! That's why I agreed to go out with her! That's why I let myself be seen with the bloody hag!"

"Are you demented?" Jaime couldn't believe his ears. The woman lived in a small apartment. She had an undisclosed job in the government - which, last he checked, barely paid good money. "She has nothing." 

"You must know squat about the Tarths then, traitor?" Jaime freezes at the name. And Daliso spat blood. "They own the mines down in Ilakaka." The pub is packed, dimly-lit, and full of noise that no one really notices their squabble. "You'll keep this incident between us, certainly. You did good by her, gaining this conquest." He tries to drink amid the horrid purple bruise swelling in the side of his face. 

It was then that Jaime, once again, hit the scoundrel square on his cocky, sickly face; thinking to himself that, while Brienne was ugly, there were worse things to be - like the gold-digging two-faced man cursing him and writhing in pain on the ground.

.

"Where've you been?" Tyrion was drunk when Jaime returned from the loo, having washed off the stain of blood from his hands. "You missed Pod's very, very enlightening story." The man said suggestively.

"Sorry," is Jaime's only reply when he slips back into the booth, his knuckles tingling and his ears ringing.

It was tiring, he thought it - the prospect of having to fix this entire mess. He couldn't do it - leave it this way, leave Brienne alone and heartbroken.

But what could he do? He thought in his drunken state - throughout the ride home, even as he paid for his cab fare, even as he climbed up the stairs to his townhouse. His mind circled around the question even as he went into bed, even as he was woken up at the dead of night by the noise of shattering glass a floor down. And, even as he picked up the piece of brick thrown into his home with the words "traitor" carved across it, all he could ask himself was - What could he do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By now, I hope you got a good glimpse of Jaime's character. The premise of the story is light. But since we're working with Jaime's complex character, we'll be going through some angst and drama. Thanks for reading! Surprised and grateful for the following!


	5. Chapter 5

Her eyes were narrowed; and her arms crossed over her chest as she surveyed the room with a critical eye, careful not to miss even the smallest detail. She made a slow turn about the room in her stiletto heels, her classy, form-fitting dress, her Hermes bag. Her long wavy blonde hair cascaded down her back proudly - a true mark of any Lannister. 

"It's nothing really." Jaime tells her, his twin who wasn't having any of it. It was a little pass eight in the morning. And, the first thing his sister does before going into work is drive by his home in some remote area to check up on him. He honestly can't understand it, how she'd just know that something had happened. Leaning over the edge of his counter, watching his sister sneer at a painting of his, he had long decided it was one of those weird twin things. 

Cersei turns and looks up at the shattered window panel once again, a finger touching the side of her ear in thought. Her lips pursing, her expression displeased as she always seemed to be; she says, "This is what you get for living in some back-alley." 

Jaime only grimaced. Cersei always made it a point to remind him how much she abhored his home. 

"It's the second time this has happened." The tone of her voice doesn't change, but Jaime can hear her worry. "If you lived with us, you'd be untouchable." She looks at him, her gaze firm. "As it should be." 

"You can't stop it." Jaime shakes his head. "You can't keep me from the ire of the country, you can't hide me from them forever." 

Cersei's knuckles turned white, her grip on her arms tightening. "This is just absurd." She hisses amid her locked jaw, amid the sour taste filling her mouth; herself frustrated by the simple truth - that no matter how much power, wealth, nor influence their family held - they would never be able to do it, salvage Jaime's once revered reputation. 

.

Phantom Thread  
Chapter Five

.

When Jaime enters the hardware store, out in an errand for his landlady who he had left back in his home. Surely, he mused in his light, offhanded manner, the woman was still cursing him over and over again as she cleaned up the mess from last night. He could hear her - how she'd grumble that, no matter how much money he'd pay her - it would never be enough to pay off the bad energy he's brought with him. She was a riot, that old woman, Jaime laughed to himself. 

"Ah!" 

Jaime paused from his step, looking down at the surprised woman in front of him. Recognizing her, his eyes widen; what an odd coincidence it was. He'd know her anywhere, any one of them, any one of the Stark children. "Sansa Stark." He greets, caught off guard. "Fancy seeing you in a hardware store." He sounded sarcastic. His greeting, his cordiality, forced.

The young woman instantly flushes. "Ditto." Came her careful voice, sharp and biting. Sansa immediately turns away, whipping her long red hair at him and continues on her way, deeper into the aisles of the store. 

Jaime shakes his head, thinking it vulgar - how teenagers these days didn't even bother hiding their contempt. It was then that, his gaze turning, he notices a tall woman standing by the side and meets her line of sight - there at the corner, standing like a statue; her eyes creased and her lips pursed - was Brienne fucking Tarth; standing next to him like a fucking dream. Jaime's immediate reaction was to blink repeatedly, unsure whether the stationary woman was real or merely a figment of his imagination. "What are you doing standing there?" He found her stiff posture ridiculous. Then, it dawns to him. "Tell me this isn't your job." He almost begs as he approached her, a look of disbelief in his face. "-babysitting a Stark." 

Brienne's only reply was a twitch of her lips. She refused to even look at him.

"I figured maybe Eddard's security detail. But this," He shakes his head. "You're a glorified babysitter." 

"How about you?" She snapped, she scoffed. "A professional matchmaker?" And it takes everything in Jaime not to break into a laughing fit.

"You know that I'm not, though." The grin on his face wouldn't fade. 

Brienne's lip twitched, annoyed by his jovial manner. "A liar _and_ a traitor. The whole package." She told herself out loud, as if checking a list of red flags. She held her chin high and looked down at him. Still, none of her words would smear the smile off Jaime's face. And this just irritated Brienne even more. "I was a soldier too, you know." She hisses at him under her breath, heatedly. "I didn't really think you'd be who you are. It made more sense to think you weren't who I thought you were."

"We should catch up." He tells her. And Brienne turns to look at him as if he had grown another head. Why was it - she raked her brain - that he was acting as if they were good old friends. "Are you free tonight?" He asked right as Sansa suddenly shows up with a parcel in hand, a surprised expression on her face as if she'd walked into something surreal.

"Shall we head out, my lady?" Brienne asked, her tone was gentler, softer; totally ignoring Jamie.

"Yes, thank you." Sansa answered, giving Jaime a curt nod before leaving with her nose high in the air. 

"I'll call you! Free up your night!" 

Brienne didn't bother to look back. It was only Sansa who looked back with her face creased in shock. "What's gotten into him?" She gasped, her brows knitted. Jaime Lannister was never this way before. Never.

As Jaime watched them leave, he smiled amidst himself. He turns to the store and, for the life of him, can't remember the reason he came in in the first place. 

.

It was a honor to serve his country. He thought as a new recruit finally getting deployed. It made sense now, he thought as he looked at his combat boots, at the black rubber flooring beneath their feet. The plane they were on, unembellished, rocked; the debris hitting the metal casing sounded like little pellets. It made sense now, all the sacrifices he's made, the pain and ire he's caused his family. His heartbeat drummed against his chest; sweat dripped down the back of his neck. Jaime looks up from the floor and meets the dark indigo eyes of his squad leader. The handsome man beside him, with the white blonde hair cut short, familiar hair Jaime always remembered being long and tied up when they were younger. Were they the same, he wondered - for having sacrificed riches for country? 

Was it foolish, Jaime thought. To have patterned his life against the most beloved and revered Rhaegar Targaryen's. 

.

"I'm here." Brienne refused to take a seat in his booth. Her arms crossed over her chest. "Make it quick." She barked, earning another annoying smirk from Jaime Lannister. It was deathly annoying, his smirk - as if he knew something she didn't. And she was certain he was just full of it. 

"Why?" The man humored her. "You have a date?" 

Brienne's tough exterior fell in a second. Still, she refused to give him the satisfaction of catching her off guard. "What it is?" She urged him, nearly spitting venom with every syllable. 

Then, Jamie's face sobers and turns business. He places his elbows on the table and clasps his hands together. "I honestly don't know how best to tell you," 

"Just spit it out." Brienne was past any form of civility. She was certain she hated this man. The whole country sure did. 

"Are you still dating him," He finally asks her. "Daliso." 

A sour taste fills Brienne's mouth. And, stiffly, she shakes her head. "What does it matter to you?" 

"Are _you_ still _dating_ him?"

Brienne's lips twitched. "I am not." 

Jaime finally got to lean back into his seat. "Good." He just tells her. Once again, annoying the life of her by omitting a million details behind his single syllable response. "There are better men." 

"Are we done?" She snaps at him.

"Why are you so mad?" Jaime had to ask her. Then, it dawns to him. "Did he do something to you?" His grip tightened. "Did he hurt you?" 

Brienne laughs at him bitterly. "It's not about him, you bloody idiot," Then, adds for good measure. "I never cared for him. There was nothing between us to begin with."

Jaime lets go of her hand, confusion washes his face. "What?" 

"I told you I didn't like him. I would never go out with a man who means nothing to me." 

"Then," 

"It's just absurd, talking about such foolish things. I can't even understand why you'd bring it up." Brienne was red. She was overcome with anger at him but she still managed to hold herself back, to hiss instead of crying out. "You're not even a matchmaker! What do you even think you're doing, meddling in my personal affairs?" When Jaime wouldn't speak, she continued. "Do you find my lack of a love life so gullible that you'd actually go out of your way to humiliate me?"

"Stop." Jaime had to raise his hands in an attempt to calm the woman. "It's none of those things. I'm not doing this to spite you." He tries to appease her. "I was just fascinated, is all. How there're actually people out there who genuinely want it-" Brienne seemed to simmer down. And, his expression sincere, implores her. "Let me see this through."

Brienne was utterly astounded. She couldn't gauge him, this man before her - asking her if he could continue being a part of her life. It was absurd, how he clung onto it - on the idea of getting her hitched. This infamous crazy man. Was it pity, was it confusion, compassion, necessity - that urged her to nod, that made her say the words, "All right." She didn't know. All she saw, all she could make sense of that night, in that moment, was the soft viridescent eyes that gazed into hers, imploring, begging, pleading her - when she had nothing; nothing she could offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued. In the next chapter,
> 
> "Why are you so defensive?" He snaps at her. Then, his eyes widen, only now realizing it - "Oh my God." He points at her in disbelief. "You have a thing for pretty boys."
> 
> Can you guess who her next date will be? Haha! Thanks for reading, hope you lot leave a comment.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SCENE DUMP WRITING DUMP CHAPTER**  
>  I honestly don't know if I'll be able to write for a while, so if you wanted to see what I've written so far, I've placed it like a dump below.  
> Just in case you're looking forward to the next parts.  
>  **NOTE THAT THESE SCENES WILL SPOIL YOU.**
> 
> It's pretty much chronological. 
> 
> It's scenes far into the story, at a later part. These are the scenes I love but it'll take time and effort to get there and build their relationship through cohesive chapters. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and hope I get to write again soon.

"Me?" He repeated, almost laughing. "It's not for me." 

"How can it not be? It has to be." She was absolutely infuriating, this wench. 

"Besides, if I were, I'd only surrender all of me-" He caught Brienne roll her eyes at him, which made him smirk; knowing fully well how odious he must sound. "-to just one woman. More than that would be far too tedious for me. I'm a sore enough as it is."

At this brienne laughs. 'it's good to know you're at least aware of it.' jaime breaks into a smirk. "still, it's pitiful then." 

"What is?" He asked, his interest piqued. 

At this Brienne smiles, "Your future conquest." 

.

"Your hand," She gestured to the gloved fist. 

Jaime smirks. "It's not as bad as you'd imagine." He attempts to laugh, making the woman beside him knot her brows in confusion. "Try as I might, it still gives me nightmares." He stretches and curls his prostetic digits. "I'd lie awake, damning the world, cursing time - for moving, for being so bloody unsympathetic to my plight. Why - I asked the gods - why does the world keep moving - when mine was utterly frozen and shattered beyond repair." 

"It should be a sin - that the world should keep moving when mine was shattered beyond repair." 

.

"Why," Her voice, soft. "Why haven't you told anyone?" 

He only laughed bitterly. "Do you think they wanted to know the truth? They wanted a hero, some imaginary inspirational figure. Why would they do it, taint his image when he was the face of the country - gallant, selfless; or so, he made it seem to be." (In which Jaime, during his time in service, killed a comrade in arms who attempted to bomb a civilian building to kill a high profile terrorist that may or may not be in the building.) 

"Then, I-" She could barely make out her sentence. "I owe you an-"

"Nothing." Jaime said. "You owe me nothing." 

.

"Contrary to what you think," He glanced at her, his emerald eyes almost shimmering from the warm mood light of the bar. "I don't mind it - your company." 

Brienne doesn't know what to say, shy as she was, and averts her gaze, looking down at her untouched drink; unable to keep the smile from spreading on her lips. 

"That, my dear wench, is a feat in itself."  
.

"It's a hand," She takes his in hers and intertwines their fingers, his cold, prostetic ones with her calloused, rough digits. Lifeless as it was, all the same, the gesture made his gut wrench, his stomach churn, his palm sweat. "What is a hand to the whole?" The smile on her face, Jaime noted with a glaze in his eyes, made her almost a beauty. "You'll do fine. You've done fine." 

"You're quite touchy when you're drunk." he says amid the lock in his throat

At this, Brienne only laughs, releasing his hand. 

.

 

"princes end up with princesses," she laughs, quick to dismiss his theory. "-not wenches."  
tormund's lips lightly spread into a smile. "then," he says almost in a single breath, "what about giants?"  
.  
He thought it impossible that he couldn't believe her. "Gaintsbane?" The name itself was so ridiculous - how could she possibly think she was making an ounce of sense. "You were just saying, the other day, that he was practically harrasing you." 

Brienne's brows knit and a small smile spreads on her lips. Her lowered gaze, wistful, absentminded, made something in Jaime crack into pieces. "I myself don't know." She starts to chuckle. "It's funny really." 

No. Jaime thought, far from amused. It wasn't funny at all. "He doesn't even fit your standards." 

"You said my list was ludicrous." 

"So what?" He almost sounded desperate. And he didn't care. "You've never followed a word I've said." 

"Then, you should be happy that I have. And it bloody worked!" She laughed. "I don't understand why you're so worked up about it. You did it! You got me a keeper!"  
.

"You can't keep people on a leash, Jaime." His younger brother told him. The prat had always been wiser. And never knew when just to shut up. "You very well know you have to let her go."  
.

"That's she?" Cersei sneered. "She's utterly repulsive." 

Tyrion's eyes narrow empathetic, and turn to Jaime, knowing it was better to say nothing. The latter, simply chose to drown himself in alcohol.  
.  
"You've always been the kindest among us." Tyrion said. "If anyone should be happy - it should be you." 

"Now come down here so I can hug the shit out of you." 

At this, Jaime starts to laugh. "One of these days," He says to his brother's ear. "I'll return to being the older brother."  
.

 

"Why would you love me - a mere wench. An ugly enormous brute-" 

"I never-"

"You have - repeatedly. If not in your words, it was in your looks." 

"Then why didn't you say anything - you never bloody say anything - how would I know how you were to take it? I have a loose tongue - I never stop speaking. And -" He points to her, saying as a matter of fact she should already have know. "-Half of what I say mean nothing-" He was clinging on to a loose thread; a thread slowly slipping from his grasp. 

"That's just it- you speak so carelessly, without an ounce of remorse. What may mean nothing to you may mean the world to someone else." 

"So, that's it? You've been humoring me all this while?" 

"As you've been with me-" 

"I-" something in his heart breaks. "i have never just humored you. i have always - always respected you far beyond comprehension - beyond fucking reason!"

 

Jaime let out an exasperated laugh. "I have never been just humoring you. I- I have always- always respected you- far beyond comprehension." 

"You have not-" 

 

*What about me? 

It's the first time brienne snaps, its the first time she lays herself bare before jaime. before this, it had always been jaime, talking talking about himself, about his thoughts. 

do you think i like being this way? do you think i like being picked last for absolutely everything because of the way i look? 

i want to get angry too! i want to cry as well! i want to feel sorry for myself and just cry in the corner! but i can't and i wont because a life of downs taught me that self-pity will bring me nowhere. 

what would you know? when you've never received enough praise to know the pain of having it taken away from you. 

and thats how i know, she said - that that doesn't matter. no one does. it is only here, she beats a firm fist to her chest, bold and true - that matters.

.

"When I look at you, when I look at you - I feel like I could fall, fall so hard. But then, I remember - I am who I am. And you are who you are." 

.

"what about me? do you think this is easy for me? 

i dont date women like you

.

"I like being with you because it's simple. Because, it doesn't have to mean anything with you." 

.

"You disgust me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story status: Hiatus


End file.
